We'll Know Better
by Scorch
Summary: Jeff is angry after Matt kisses him on RAW (Oct. 8, 2001).


web hosting domain names email addresses related sites 

We'll Know Better   
  
I'd like to claim I couldn't help it. Claim it was one of those heat of the moment things - ya know?   
But I'd be lying. I do it to make him angry. I like him angry.   
You're shaking your head.   
Well you've accepted having sex with my brother, so I don't see why it's so much of a stretch.   
I did it on purpose. grabbed his neck and planted one, right there with Amy, God and 80 million fans watching.   
He shook it off Out There.   
But then..   
We got back to the lockerroom - left Amy outside talking with Nora.The door swung shut and I was reeling from the slap he gave me.   
"What the HELL was THAT Matthew??" he shouts at me as I lean against the lockers panting, watching him from behind my hair.   
  
He's so angry he's shaking. He's worried someone will find out - but really - who's going to ever believe that two pretty southern ladies men such as we are dirty, incestuous catamites?   
I can't help but taunt him.   
"I couldn't help it.." I say softly   
"Couldn't help it?!?!?" He stalks towards me, raking fingers through his hair. He shoves me back against the locker again, aiming another slap at me.   
I could dodge, but I don't. He needs to get it out and I want him too. I like the sting.   
Oh. He's made me bite my lip. He won't be able to control himself now   
I let the blood trickle down my chin. He growls, lunging forward. He licks the blood form my face and kisses me. It's more of an assault than a kiss really. He bites my already torn lip and reaches for the neckline of my shirt.   
People think I wear the same shirt over and over. Really I just have a big box full of them.   
My shirt is ripped from neckline to waist. It falls in shreds at our feet.   
I reach towards him, staring soulfully into his fury-clouded eyes - which, of course, only makes him angrier. " I love you Jeffy" I say in a small voice.   
"SHUT UP!" he shrieks, grabbing my shoulders and wrenching me around so I can't taunt him with my glances. He shoves me up against the lockers, fumbling with his clothing, which is sticking to his body from his exertions. The metal is cool against my skin.   
He twists his fingers in my hair. I like this part. He's going to pull my head to the side so he can bite me again.   
I gasp as his teeth sink into the flesh of my shoulder.   
"Fuck you for making me love you" he snarls. "No - fuck me because you love me." I say into the metal of the lockerdoor.   
"Shut up!" he orders again..his body pressed against me, heat seeping from him into me as he fumbles with my pants. I know better than to try to help him with that. There's a point to his rage where you don't want to push him over the edge.   
Sometimes I think I will someday - just to see what will happen. But not today.   
Today I want what he wants to give me.   
One hand is still twisted in my hair, the other strokes down my body, wrapping around my cock. I'm so hard it hurts.   
He presses himself against me. It's one of those days where he's not going to bother with lube. He's just going to tear into me.   
THERE!   
I can't help but groan as he pushes inside me. It hurts better than anything.   
My forehead presses against the locker as he grips my hips, pulling them back and then thrusting forward.   
"Don't. Ever. Do. That. Again!"   
He pants, punctuating each word with a thrust deep inside me.   
I cry out "Jeff - I'm..ahhh!" I can't even get a sentence out - I just cum all over the locker in front of me, coating his hand.   
I think me spilling sets him off. That happens sometimes. He shoots deep inside me. Filling me.   
He leans against me for a minute, before standing up. I turn to look at him.   
He touches my face softly. You'd think he was going to turn all tender, but he pulls me toward him, giving me one last savage kiss, holding onto my hair with sticky fingers.   
Something wet trickles down my chest. Oh. I didn't realize he'd bitten me that hard.   
He tosses the shreds of my shirt at me. I dab at my chest with them.   
"Get Dressed. Look Good." He commands, pulling his pants back on and stalking out.   
I take a shower, marveling at the sting the hot water makes on my wounds.   
Others will see the bruises and think they're from the match.   
But we'll know better. He and I.   
Turn the page Close the book   
  


  
web hosting • domain names  
Powered by Ampira 


End file.
